“Well, Ceretti says that the exploit can only be triggered from outside the ship. He also said that the officer that placed the call to us seemed to be holding back about something.”
There was a pause.
“Does he know what?”
Cal shook his head. “He’s a smart guy, sir, but I don’t think he’s a mind reader.”
Dayton’s brown eyes seemed to burn a hole in Cal as his stare continued for almost a minute. Then his eyes broke away from Cal, he raised his voice and barked, “Drisko, clear the bridge. Take Mr. McLaughlin with you. Make sure no one enters the bridge until I order otherwise.”
“Yes sir,” he heard Drisko reply.
Dayton again locked his eyes on Cal. “I have some business to attend to up here. Something isn’t right, I’ll give you that.”
Cal could feel his temper rising quickly. He flexed his right hand, which gave him a painful reminder of the last time this happened. “Colonel, sir,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need to report to Doctor Taylor immediately. I can have Josephson take my place if you need.”
“Are you ill?” Dayton asked as he sized up Cal.
“Maybe. I’m experiencing a symptom that she wanted me to look out for.”
Colonel Dayton nodded. “Very well. But Josephson is only to take your place guarding the bridge if Major Forrest is resting. If he’s awake, I want her there guarding the doctor.”
With a nod, Cal leaped toward the end of the bridge and pulled his way down the stairs past a surprised Drisko. He did not as much as pause to acknowledge the sergeant’s query as to where he was going. He made his way into the sleeper section that contained the new berths of both himself and Forrest. He found Dr. Taylor and Lieutenant Josephson within.
Dr. Taylor was using one of the terminals; Cal presumed that she was doing her work. Lieutenant Josephson was rigid against a bank of sleepers. If Cal had not known better, he would have sworn that she had been glued to the wall. Her eyes fell on Cal with a watchful gaze as he passed.
“Is the major asleep?” he asked as he came to as stop next to Dr. Taylor.
She nodded. “Resting, but not in hibernation. I still need to monitor him for another day or so.”
He turned to see the blonde lieutenant eyeing him. “Colonel Dayton said that if the major was resting, he wanted you to guard the entry to the bridge.”
Her lip curled and she drummed her fingers on the grip of her Taser. “Isn’t that nice. I don’t take orders from you, kid.”
Cal sighed and shook his head. “Look, I already said I’m sorry for shoving you. I really don’t know what your beef with me is, but it’s starting to get old. If we’re going to keep working together, can you at least be civil with me?”
Josephson’s lips parted in what could be either a sneer or a grin; Cal couldn’t make up his mind as to which it was. “I don’t work with you. You’re just the doctor’s pet.”
“Hey,” Dr. Taylor protested.
“Look,” Cal continued. “The order came from Colonel Dayton. Does it matter who the messenger is? Because I can just go outside and get Drisko to tell you the same thing.”
“Hmph. And so quickly you run to go tell on me. Tsk tsk.” Josephson crossed her arms. “Well go on, I’m calling your bluff, little man.”
“Enough!” Dr. Taylor’s voice boomed and echoed through the hallway. “Go guard the bridge, Lieutenant.”
Josephson did not budge. “Sorry, Doctor. Civilian authority ends at the airlock. Up here I don’t take orders from you either.”
“Wrong, Lieutenant. Colonel Dayton ordered me to treat Major Forrest up here, as well as move my work here,” the elder woman said, standing her ground. “Which means that according to the operational guidelines of Project Columbus, this hallway is de facto designated a hospital. And that means that my authority is supreme here.” The smirk disappeared from Josephson’s face and all color seemed to drain from her. “Now get your ass out of my hospital and follow your damned CO’s orders.”
“Y-yes Doctor,” she stuttered as she beat a hasty retreat from the crew pod.
As soon as the lieutenant was out of sight, Dr. Taylor turned back to Cal with a grin. “I see you’ve made a friend.”
Cal shook his head. “Seriously, who keeps pissing in her oatmeal? I don’t know what else to do about her. I’ve tried to make nice, but she just refuses.”
“Turn the other cheek, Calvin. That’s about all you can do right now.”
“Doc, I’ve got symptoms. These mood swings that you warned me about.”
Dr. Taylor turned off her workstation and gave him her full attention. “Can you describe these mood swings? What kind of moods, what’s happening when they strike you?”
He looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, God. How do I even begin to describe them?” He dropped his eyes back down and stared Dr. Taylor in the eyes. “Well, up on the bridge, I felt a burst of anger for no reason whatsoever. Then there was when we found Doctor Fairweather’s body, I almost burst into tears.”
“Hmm. I don’t know about the anger, but generally speaking, crying is an appropriate response to grief.”
“That’s part of the thing, Doc. I didn’t know that guy from Adam, yet I felt almost as bad as the moment I found out Dad was killed. I would have expected to feel shocked or numb, yes. But that kind of reaction for a guy I’ve never seen in my life?”
Dr. Taylor pursed her lips and nodded.
“There have been a bunch of other times where I’ve felt something that just didn’t fit the situation. Numbness, fear, happiness, anger, you name it. It’s almost like the part of my brain that sends out emotions is spinning a wheel every few minutes to see what is next.” He averted his eyes and laughed nervously. “I can’t tell if being awake or asleep is worse at this point. When I’m asleep, I’m battling my demons, but at least I feel how I expect to feel. But when I’m awake, it’s almost like a different kind of nightmare. I feel like I’m losing my mind, Doc.”
Dr. Taylor sighed and placed her hands on Cal’s shoulders. He felt more at ease, as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders.
“I love working with you, Calvin. Your work ethic is great for someone of your generation. I consider you a good friend, and that’s why I worry about how you’re going to take this,” she said. There was a dramatic pause and Cal could feel a knot tighten in his stomach as she withdrew her hands. “I need you to come with me to talk to the colonel as soon as he is available.”
“Why? Is it bad?” He dreaded the answer.
“I believe you may have a rare condition known as Hibernation Psychosis.”
His heart sunk.
Then it’s true. I am living a nightmare.
1st Lt Darius Owens
22 September 2024, 17:00
Gabriel
“Are you joking, Lieutenant?”
Colonel Eriksen glared at Darius. It seemed that his superior was judging Darius for what he had reported. I’m just the messenger, he thought. You’re not supposed to shoot the messenger, right? Darius shook his head and replied, “No sir. He was very clear, it was an order.”
“Who the hell does he think he is? This is my ship!” Eriksen’s voice bellowed and he drew the attention of Tyler Quinn; the engineer gave a curious glance toward the command chair. “Not to mention that it’s also my investigation.”
“He seemed convinced, sir.”
“And did he say why?”
“He just said it was classified,” Darius replied.
Eriksen scoffed. “Two can play at that game. Reply with my compliments,” his voice was thick with sarcasm. “Inform him that we regret that we cannot divulge any classified information without proper clearance.”
Darius sighed heavily. I don’t want to argue with one colonel, let alone two. He tugged at the cuff of his flight suit. “With all due respect, sir, I do not believe that Colonel Dayton will accept that coming from me. Shouldn’t you speak with him yourself?”
Colonel Eriksen clenched
his jaw and his eyes narrowed. Darius glanced over his shoulder and was reminded that Captain Quinn was still watching the spectacle unfold. He drew in a breath and held it. Lord, I just disrespected his command in front of others. That won’t help at all.
Instead, Eriksen relaxed and breathed in deeply. “I suppose you’re right, Owens. Let’s just nip this in the bud.” Darius exhaled in relief. “Is there still a headset in the computer core?”
“Yes sir,” he replied.
“Good. I will use the terminal back there to contact Michael. See to it that I’m not disturbed.”
“Yes sir.”
Darius watched as his commanding officer rose from the chair and propelled himself off of the bridge. He then looked back at the engineering console and saw Captain Quinn, a wry grin etched on his pale face.
“Good job, Owens.”
Darius drew his eyebrows together as he tried to figure out what Quinn was talking about. “What for, sir?”
“Wrangling the colonel. I’ve never actually seen anyone back him down like that before.”
“I-I didn’t really do anything, I just thought that if they talked to each other it would save a huge headache.”
Quinn’s lips parted in a toothy smile. “No doubt for you.”
None at all. It would have been like getting wedged between two rocks. He nodded. There was a brief silence while Darius thought. “Sir, are you done with the colonel’s request?”
“No, working on it right now.”
“I thought you were going to do that back in propulsion?”
Quinn sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t get rid of Smith, so I came up here. Turns out that nav’s already done for the day, so it’s just been me and the colonel up here.” He ran a hand through his fiery hair. “So what was that all about, anyway?”
Darius drifted to the railing next to Quinn. “Colonel Dayton of Michael ordered us to divulge all information on our investigation and to send a copy of my null mailbox file. He wouldn’t say why.”
Quinn whistled. “Did you send the file to him? I know you built it to protect the ship.”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to. I programmed it as an add-on to the existing system. If I sent it to them, it would just sound like a fax machine arguing with a parrot. It would never install.”
A puzzled look came over the captain’s face. “So how would a transmission from Raphael trigger anything on a ship if you can’t get this mailbox to install?”
“Good question, sir. Whoever designed the transmission took advantage of specific exploits. In many ways…” he trailed off and then corrected himself, “no, I take that back. In every way, it acts like a virus.”
“A virus, huh? That might just help me in my search.”
Darius craned his neck to look at the file displayed on Quinn’s terminal. “Had any luck with that, sir?”
Quinn turned back to the terminal and flipped to another profile. “I’ve got a few discrepancies, but I’m not sure that any of them are useful. Take this one here,” he said as he tapped the screen with a freckled finger. “Lieutenant Julio Morado. Turns out he’s actually a Mexican citizen. We’ve got quite a few Hispanic passengers and a couple crew scattered about, but this guy is the only one of them that wasn’t actually born in the US.”
“That doesn’t seem useful,” Darius said in a flat tone.
“Tell me about it.” Quinn advanced to another file. “Here we’ve got one from the other border. Major Nathan Emberley, Royal Canadian Air Force. Again, the only Canadian citizen I’ve come across.”
“Hmm, what else have you come across?” Darius leaned over the railing a bit to get a closer look.
Another profile popped up. “Let’s see here. Airman Nova Weyler. This looks more like a clerical error than anything. Her enlistment date and entry into basic are way too far apart.”
“How far?”
“Three years.”
Darius shook his head. “That sounds like someone slipped on a ten key, sir. Do you have any favorites so far?”
“I’ve got two. They’re real thin stretches, but at this point it’s all I’ve got. There’s this guy, Lieutenant Mancini. He was supposed to be on board Michael but ended up on Raphael after his transport took fire on the way up. He might possibly have the skill set to pull this off, and his record has a couple incidents. At first glance they look like minor things, but they are also linked to the last name Kimura.”
Darius nodded. That’s pretty thin, Captain.
“The other pick is Harjit Singh.”
Darius looked at the picture of Singh. He was a reasonably young man; by the date of birth on his file, he was twenty seven when the ships launched. In his file photo, Singh’s dark beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was slicked back in an equally tidy manner. His lips were expressionless but his dark brown eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire. His dress blues almost seemed to flow into his dark skin.
“What’s the anomaly with him?” Darius asked.
“Nothing in his file,” replied Quinn. “But there’s just something about him. Look at those eyes, they’re pretty sinister looking, right?”
Darius shot a glance over at Captain Quinn as if the man had grown a second head on his shoulder. Sinister looking eyes? He shook his head and looked at the screen once more. “I don’t see it, sir.”
“C’mon now, Owens. Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind that some terrorist group has placed someone on board.”
Darius could not believe what he had just heard. He thinks that Singh is a terrorist. Because what, he’s brown? His fingers began to tingle. There was something definitely wrong with the captain’s search if all he was going on was a gut instinct about a colored man’s eyes.
“Sir, permission to speak freely?”
Captain Quinn stopped for a moment, seemingly stunned by the request. “Of course.”
“I don’t see anything odd about him or the file, sir. Are you sure you haven’t selected him because of the color of his skin?”
Quinn looked at Darius, clearly contemplating his words. “Are you accusing me of something, Mr. Owens?”
“Just trying to understand something. Do you think that Lieutenant Singh might possibly be a terrorist?”
The captain sat in stupor. He blinked at Darius and lowered his voice. “Is this a trick question?”
He shook his head. “Only if you want it to be, sir.”
“Frankly, yes.”
“Then with all due respect,” Darius said without skipping a beat, “remove him from your suspects list and move on. We’re looking for an assassin.”
“Not that there’s a difference.”
“Respectfully, sir, there is quite a difference. A terrorist would have just found a way to breach Raphael’s hull and killed everyone on board. What we have is an assassin who is precise, calculating, and extremely cautious.” He reached over and tapped the screen emphatically. “There’s a good chance that they aren’t even on the list you’ve compiled. They probably already know what we’d be looking for.”
Quinn looked up at Darius. He seemed deflated, and exhaustion was evident in his expression. “So I’ve done all this work for nothing?”
Darius scratched at his cheek as he stared at the picture of Harjit Singh. “Maybe, maybe not. But if there’s someone on this list that did it, it’s that little blonde girl. What’s her name again? Weyler?”
The captain looked at Darius with a bewildered look. “What? Why?”
He smiled. “Because you know the innocent looking blonde girl is the one who’s the biggest problem, right? The prom queen? The girl in the grocery store parking lot that backs into your car and drives off without leaving a note? Yeah, she’s the one who’s most likely to kill someone from thousands of miles away by making a phone call.”
Quinn burst out laughing. Darius joined him. When they caught their breaths after a minute, Quinn added, “No you’ve got it wrong. It’s that damn Canadian. You know it’s all a vast consp
iracy to overthrow baseball and replace it with hockey. I mean, you can’t trust a man whose bacon is round.”
The two men started laughing again. For a shining moment, Darius forgot the gravity of the situation and remembered that he needed moments of levity to balance against the cruel reality in which he lived.
Calvin McLaughlin
22 September 2024, 20:05
Michael
Cal held on to the railing with one hand as his other came to his mouth in a vain attempt to conceal a yawn. Quiet settled in on the hallway just inside the crew section airlock.
I wonder if Colonel Dayton is done arguing with whoever he was talking to.
As Cal waited at the bottom of the staircase with Sergeant Drisko and Dr. Taylor, the trio had been subjected to occasional bits of Dayton’s tirade. There was no one on the bridge that anyone knew of, so they presumed he was having a radio conversation. Based on the large gaps of time in between outbursts, it must have been a fairly long range conversation as well.
Drisko had suggested that Colonel Dayton was having a “discussion” with another one of the sleepers. It made sense, but only an occasional word was clear enough to understand. Several of them were curse words, twisted by Dayton’s New England accent. Cal had to keep from laughing several times from how silly it sounded, but took a ribbing from Drisko about his own drawl.
“I don’t know. If it’s another colonel, they could be arguing all night,” Drisko quipped. “I saw the three of them together once back on Earth. Talk about making mountains out of molehills, I swear they were trying to pull rank on each other over a sandwich in the cafeteria.”
Cal blinked. “Are you serious? A sandwich?”
His friend smiled. “You obviously never had the sandwiches there.” Drisko’s facial expression flattened out again. “In all seriousness, I did happen to be walking by a room where they were having a staff meeting and heard them all yelling at each other. I don’t think they liked each other very much before all this crap started happening.”
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 21
